


Fruit Ninja

by shaneequa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fruit Ninja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaneequa/pseuds/shaneequa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of SHIELD, Natasha is bored at the farm, so she and Clint decide to play fruit ninja.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fruit Ninja

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by real life events. 
> 
> I don't own anything. No rights to the Avengers or anything much really.

For the first time in a long time, Natasha had nothing to do. With SHIELD down, and her laying low because of all the press, she honestly had nothing but to sit on the couch and just watch re-runs of some 90s show on Netflix.

“What season are you on?” Clint asked her plopping down on the couch next to her with a smile on his face.

“Get away from me, smelly!” Natasha said getting a whiff of his fourteen-hour-straight-working-in-the-barn smell.

Clint raised his arms and smelled his armpit. He smelled like a man, a man’s man who just worked all day in the farm, man.

“I don’t smell.”

“You do.”

“I… Anyway, so what season are you in?”

“Six.”

“You wanna take a quick break?”

“Doing what?”

“Fruit ninja,” Clint grinned at her. “Picked up some fruit on the floor and instead of throwing them away, I think we could have some fun with them.”

“Ninja stars?” Natasha asked him shoving him off and still trying to _not_ smell him.

“Yep, and there’s more.”

“Guns?”

He shook his head. “We should probably save the ammo… but there’s more.”

She looked at him, thinking for a moment., her eyes lighting up and her grin spreading across her face.

“You brought the samurai swords over here?”

Clint grinned. “Brought two.”

“The other ones?”

“Stashed, in case we needed them somewhere else… So what do you say?”

Natasha pushed off the couch and grabbed the remote hitting the pause button on her show. “I suppose I can get up from the couch just this once for it.”

Clint followed her out of the door and to the yard where he already set up the piles of apples and oranges as well as their individual swords, ninja stars, and daggers.

“So, whose turn first?”

“Mine, obviously,” Natasha scoffed. “It’s cheating if you do it since…”

“Master marksman, I never miss,” Clint stated with a grin.

“I was going to say it was because it’s your idea but sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Clint rolled his eyes, and walked to the apples. “Pick your weapon, Romanoff.”

She stood in the middle of the three and pondered before walking over to _her_ samurai sword, specially made for her, the kashira of the kitana had her double triangle symbol carved and painted in red while the whole tsuka (handle) was in black. Clint’s beside it had his arrow symbol carved in a deep dark purple, almost black.

“Nice choice.”

“Just throw the apples, Barton,” Natasha said getting in her fighting stance, readying herself for the fruits.

The first apple Clint threw in the air, Natasha sliced the fruit, flawlessly tearing it into multiple pieces around the floor earning a happy squeal from Natasha.

“That felt good,” the redhead admitted with a chuckle. “Throw another one over!”

For two hours, Clint worked on his underthrow while Natasha switched up her weapons and played real life fruit ninja to take up her time and her mind off of SHIELD and the current dilemma of her life.

“Last one,” Clint said picking up the last fruit in the bucket and throwing it up her way. Natasha paused, took a breath and sliced through the orange.

Natasha placed the kitana down with a smile while Clint grabbed the weapons which were used so that they could clean them. “Dinner first, or clean the weapons first?”

“I’ll start dinner if you want to start cleaning. I don’t want the juice to cause them to rust.”

“Gotcha,” Clint said with a smile setting the weapons down on the dining room table.  

“What do you want for dinner?” Natasha called out from the kitchen. “We have enough for… sandwiches? Chicken penne?”

“Chicken penne.”

“You better clean those weapons good if I’m making chicken penne for you, Barton.”

“Anything for you, Romanoff.”

 

 


End file.
